


The Choice

by werewolfsaz



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Hit With A Clue-By-Four, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolfsaz/pseuds/werewolfsaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His stomach dropped when he saw John sat there with a bag by his feet</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Choice

**Author's Note:**

> My first explicit Sherlock so if there's bits wrong please tell me  
> Comments always welcome  
> Enjoy

Sherlock swept into the flat, mind buzzing with facts and figures, long fingers flying over his keypad. The flat was dark and quiet which was what eventually captured the detective's attention. It was late but not late enough for John to be in bed. The doctor should have been there, drinking tea, watching mind numbing telly, complaining that Sherlock had left that brain in the sink over night.

Instead, the flat was silent. No telly blaring, no kettle whistling, not even a single light on. Frowning, stomach dropping, Sherlock flicked the light switch on, blinking against the sudden glare. He frowned even harder when he saw that John was, indeed, in the flat.

The blond Army doctor was sat in his chair, back ramrod straight, hands clasped between his knees. He squinted against the sudden brightness then his face smoothed out. Studying his flatmate, Sherlock saw the mask that hid the usually expressive man's emotions. That, along with the fact that John was wearing his coat, made the dark haired man go cold. 

But the bag at John's feet made his stomach clench, his heart stutter and sick sweat pool in the small of his back.   
"John? Is everything alright?" he asked, the slightest of tremors in his voice. Taking a deep breath, the Army doctor raised his head to look at the tall man.  
"We need to talk, Sherlock. Sit down please."

Sherlock didn't want to sit down. He knew that if he did, he wouldn't be able to escape whatever John was about say. But the look in those deep blue eyes brooked no argument so he folded himself onto the couch, steeling his nerves.

"Sherlock, we have been living together for almost four years now. They have been four wonderful, painful, exciting years. We have become close over those years and I consider you my very best friend..."  
"And I consider you mine," the detective interjected.  
"But over the last year, my feelings have changed."

John's voice was hard, almost cold and it cut Sherlock to the core. Without even thinking, he scrambled across the sofa, reaching out to grab John's arm. Moving quicker than the black haired man thought possible, the doctor leapt to his feet, out of reach.  
"Don't, Sherlock! Please. I need to say this and if you touch me I won't be able to think."

Frozen, one long arm stretched towards his friend, Sherlock waited, barely breathing.  
"I wanted this to be easier, smoother. But, as usual, you won't let that happen. Sherlock, I have to tell you that..."  
"You're leaving," Sherlock whispered. Those two words burnt his mouth, rendered his heart to ash. "The bag contains your clothes. You're going to send for the rest of your things at a later date."

"Sherlock..."  
"Was it the brain? I swear, I honestly forgot it was in the sink."  
"It's not... How could you forget? It stinks!"  
"The chemical spill? I promised I would replace your clothes..."  
"That was my favourite jumper..."  
Stopping, John took a deep breath, composing himself.  
"If it's the fact that I left you alone with that murderer..."  
"Sherlock!" John shouted, grabbing his flatmate's arms. "Just stop."

Staring into those warm, familiar eyes, Sherlock felt a crack begin in the armour around his heart. No, that wasn't right. The crack had started on that first day. It had widened with every act of kindness and friendship John has shown to Sherlock. Now, with the very real knowledge that John was ready to leave, Sherlock could finally admit how he felt.

"This bag does have my clothes in it because I know that, after I've said this, you'll want me to leave." Gazing into Sherlock luminous eyes, memorizing every line and curve of that extraordinary face, John opened his mouth... And froze. Sherlock furrowed his brow, confused.  
"John? What's wrong?" Reaching up, he skimmed his fingers down the smaller man's cheek.

With a gut wrenching moan, John lurched forward, slamming his mouth to Sherlock's, hands tangling in those messy curls. Shocked, the consulting detective rocked back, overbalanced and landed flat on the couch, John on top of him.

The doctor wriggled over the long, lean man, rubbing himself against his friend like a cat. Reluctantly he pulled away when the need to breath became desperate. Sherlock lay under him, eyes huge and shocked, mouth red from John's kisses. In the blonde's opinion, he had never looked better.  
"I was trying to tell you... That I love you, Sherlock. I'm in love with you."

Gawping at John, utterly stunned, Sherlock tried to force his scrambled brain to keep up. But all he could think of were John's lips, John's body, John's hands gripping his hair. He opened his mouth to say he understood, that it was all fine, that he felt the same.  
"Kiss me, John. Don't ever stop kissing me," was what came out instead. 

The second kiss was gentler, more of an exploration than a subsitute for words. Their tongues tangled, hands wandering over clothes, sliding inside to touch bare, heated skin.  
"Sherlock," John panted, fingers fumbling with the tall man's shirt buttons. "You drive me nuts but, Christ, I want you so much I can hardly think."  
"I'm yours, John, take me."

Those whispered words caused a dramatic change in the Army medic. Sitting up, he yanked his coat off and threw it aside. With an impressive show of strength he grabbed the neck of his jumper and ripped it right down the centre. 

Sherlock felt his cock harden instantly at this display of raw power. With a groan he slid his hands over the newly exposed flesh, trailing his fingers over the mass of scar tissue. The groan turned into a sharp cry as John ripped his shirt open, buttons flying in every direction. The touch of John's lips around his nipple made Sherlock arch up, gasping.

He felt, more than saw, John rip his trousers open, the button thumping against the Army man's chest. Forcing his eyes to focus, Sherlock discovered John was naked, wrestling Sherlock's tailored trousers down and off. Pausing, eyes almost black with lust, John let his eyes trace every dip and swell of the glorious body beneath him.

"Fuck, you're even more beautiful than I ever imagined," he breathed, dropping to plant kisses down the pale man's lean chest, over his stomach and lower.  
"Do you imagine me a lot... Jesus fuck!" Sherlock cried out as John sucked the head of his cock. Fluttering his tongue along the blood hot shaft, John pulled off with an obscene slurp, grinning at the black haired man.  
"More than is healthy," he murmured.

"Oh thank God, I thought it was just me," Sherlock growled, lurching up to kiss John again. His long, sensitive fingers tripped along the doctor's body, teasing, caressing, mapping it for later exploration. He gasped as the doctor slid their cocks together, precum making for just the right amount of friction.

"Sher...Sherlock," John moaned. "I'm so close. I wanted to be inside you, the first time but I'm not going to last."  
Sherlock moaned, rubbing himself faster against John. Their kisses grew more frantic, teeth digging into soft, sensitive flesh.  
"Cum for me, John," Sherlock panted. "Let me see you come undone for me."

"Tell me you love me," John demanded suddenly, slowing his movements, capturing Sherlock's gaze.  
"More than anything," Sherlock panted.  
"Say the words," John gritted, whole body trembling with the effort of staying still. Looking straight into blue eyes he never realised he loved so much, the consulting detective cupped John's face.  
"I love you."

With an elated growl, John wrapped one hand around both their cocks and pumped, once, twice. Third time was the charm and they came together, crying out each others names. They shuddered and trembled, cum splattering on their sweet slick skin. John lowered himself next to Sherlock on the couch, panting heavily, tangling his short fingers in sweaty curls. The taller man snuggled into his lover, feeling his heart slow to a normal rhythm.

"Please, don't go," he murmured, gripping John tight around the waist. "I'll try to change..."  
"Don't ever change," John interrupted, grabbing Sherlock's chin and kissing him hard. "I'm not going anywhere. Except to take you to bed so we can make love properly."  
Sherlock felt muscles he didn't know had tensed, relax all at once. With a contented sigh, he curled around his Army doctor and drifted.


End file.
